Mama Does Time

by Deborah Sharp

  I couldn’t wait to tell Marty how quickly our older sister had given in. The hunt for water spots or a beer-foam mark on my glassware must have diverted her.

  “Anyway, let’s not fuss at one another. This should be a happy day. Kenny wants to take all of us out to dinner to celebrate Mama’s release.’’

  Kenny is Maddie’s husband of nineteen years, who loves her beyond all reason.

  “That sounds great, Maddie. If Mama’s up to it, of course.’’

  “When hasn’t Mama been up to anything involving food?’’

  Just then, Maddie’s cell phone rang. She walked directly to her purse, found the phone in a special pocket she’d sewn inside, and answered without fumbling on the second ring. I hated my organized sister.

  Maddie listened for a few moments and turned to me. “It’s Henry, Mace. He says they’ve let Mama out early. He’s at the jail, helping her to sign some papers. But he has a court hearing in a few minutes. He can’t give her a ride.’’ She spoke into the phone again. “We’re way out at Mace’s, Henry. You know she lives out in the hardwood hammock with the wild creatures. I’ll call Marty at work and ask her to go meet Mama. The library’s only a block from the jail.’’

  We decided Marty would pick up Mama and we’d all meet for lunch at Maddie’s.

  “You can borrow Pam’s car until the police finish up with yours, Mace. Your Jeep will probably need work after you get it dried out,’’ Maddie said.

  Maddie’s daughter, Pam, was a college freshman in California, studying film-making.

  I finished my coffee, showered and dressed, and was ready to go before Maddie had put away the last of my dishes.

  We were mostly quiet on the twenty-minute ride to Maddie’s. I was thinking about my close call in the canal, and about everything that had happened since Mama discovered Jim Albert’s body in her trunk two nights before.

  “Hey, Maddie,’’ I finally said. We were just coming up on the brick entryway to her neighborhood, with my sister driving fifteen mph under the speed limit, as usual. “Is Pam still looking for a plot for her first movie?’’

  “Um-hmm,’’ Maddie murmured, careful to focus her concentration on the right-hand turn she’d made onto Whispering Pine Drive five hundred times before.

  “Tell her I have a good one. It starts with a college girl’s grandma who murders a man and stuffs his body in the trunk of her vintage convertible.’’

  “Not funny, Mace.’’

  “Lighten up, Maddie. The worst is behind us.’’

  As we proceeded at a snail’s pace onto my sister’s street, I realized I may have spoken too soon. Halfway up the block, we saw Sal Provenza parked in his yellow Cadillac, taking up two spaces in Maddie’s driveway.

  Maddie couldn’t get out of her Volvo fast enough. She was beside the driver’s side door of Sal’s Cadillac before I’d even unhinged my aching body from her passenger seat.

  Our mother’s boyfriend looked up, cigar in hand and a guilty look on his face. Maddie was so mad, she didn’t know which of Sal’s sins to seek vengeance for first.

  “I can’t believe you have the nerve to come here, stinking up my driveway with that cigar, after you framed Mama for murder and nearly killed my sister, Mace.’’

  That just about covered everything, I thought.

  Sal stubbed out the cigar in his ashtray and gave Maddie a long, hard look. My sister held his stare without so much as a flinch. He patted at his perfect hair. “I don’t have any idea what you’re talking about, Maddie. But I don’t like the way it sounds. Harder people than you have tried over the years to accuse me of things. None of them has hurt me as much as hearing you say I could harm your mother.’’ Mudder. “I love Rosie.’’

  He looked past my sister to watch me as, wincing, I lifted first one, then the other of my aching legs over the border of Chinese juniper that lined Maddie’s driveway. Sal must be a good actor, because a look of complete surprise flickered across his face as he absorbed my sorry state. Moving quickly for such a big man, he jumped from his car. The heavy driver’s door pushed Maddie out of the way.

  Sal offered his arm for support. “If your sister wasn’t so busy attacking me, she might have realized you could use some help.’’ He leaned me against the wide expanse of his Cadillac’s hood. “What’d Maddie mean, I tried to kill you? What in the hell happened, Mace?’’

  “Someone ran me off the road last night, out near the golf course. Remember the golf course, Sal?’’ I slipped into using his given name. If someone has conspired to murder you, it seems a tad formal to call him Mister.

  I continued, “That’s where you called me to come all the way out there to meet you, and then conveniently disappeared before I got there.’’

  “What are you suggesting? I set you up?’’ Sal looked at me like the creature from the Alien movie was burrowing out of my body. “I had a good reason for rushing out of there.’’

  “Yeah? What?’’

  “I got a call on my cell phone yesterday that your mother had suffered a heart attack at the jail.’’

  Maddie gasped and grabbed my hand. My own heart started racing. Then I remembered, we’d already heard from Henry this morning that Mama was fine, on her way to freedom.

  “Our mother’s heart is okay, Sal,’’ I said.

  “But I didn’t know that then. I ran out of the pro shop so fast my shoes were smoking. I tried to call you again at the park office, but you must have already left work. I didn’t have your cell number. Besides, I figured if I was getting news of Rosalee taking ill, then you and your sisters must have heard about it, too. I knew I’d see you at the jail, or maybe at the hospital.’’

  He twisted a heavy gold bracelet around his wrist, gaze fixed on the engraving that said Sal. “I didn’t even want to think about my worst fear: that the next time I’d see you girls would be at Rosie’s funeral.’’

  He pulled out an oversized white handkerchief with deep red the initials SFP. He blew his nose, loud. “Sorry,’’ he said, blowing again. “Thinking about losing her still upsets me.’’

  His hands were shaking. I almost felt sorry for him.

  “Heart attack or not, you’ve already lost our mother.’’ Maddie’s voice was as cruel as a Christmas Eve burglar. “Mama believes, as do we, that you killed Jim Albert. We think you put his body in her big trunk, and then let her take the blame.’’ Maddie crossed her arms over her chest, purse tucked in tight, and waited for his response.

  Sal carefully folded and refolded his handkerchief. He looked at the ground, and then raised his face to Maddie. There was no sadness now; just a tic in his jaw and cold anger.

  “You better watch yourself.’’ His voice was a growl. “You could get into a lot of trouble making accusations you don’t have fact one to support. Mace, tell her she’s out of line, would’ya?’’

  “She’ll do no such thing,’’ Maddie jumped in. “Mace and Marty both agree with me. And so does our mother, for that matter.’’

  When Sal looked at me, I saw hurt, not anger in his eyes. “Is that true, Mace? Does Rosalee think I’m a murderer? Do you?’’

  I paused, considering what to say. The truth was I didn’t know what to think.

  “It seems suspicious, Sal. We find out you have ties to Jim Albert, ties of the criminal kind. You’re dating my mother, who just happens to have a spacious trunk in the back of her old Bonne-ville. She’s playing bingo at the Seminole reservation. The car is parked way out in the hinterlands.’’

  He ran a finger around his collar, sweating in the full sun on Maddie’s driveway. “Anyone could have had access to that car, Mace.’’

  He addressed the car, but avoided the topic of his ties to the murder victim.

  “Everyone in town knows your mother and her turquoise convertible,’’ he continued.

&nb
sp; “Yeah, but how many other people have an extra set of keys to the car?’’

  From the flush on Sal’s face, I could see my comment hit home.

  “She gave you a set, didn’t she?’’ I asked.

  “You know she did. Rosalee’s always losing her keys. I have a set for safekeeping.’’

  “Humph!’’ said Maddie.

  “You both know I’m not the only one. A few extra sets are floating around town.’’

  “True,’’ I conceded. “But how many of those other folks with Mama’s keys have also drawn the suspicions of the detective investigating Jim Albert’s murder? Just you.’’

  Oddly, Sal smiled. “I wouldn’t be so sure you know everything Detective Martinez has up his sleeve,’’ he said. “Policemen play things close to the vest. They don’t share everything they know, especially not with civilians.’’

  “That’s neither here nor there, Mr. Provenza.’’ Maddie put her hands on her hips. “On top of everything Mace just said, you also seem to be the most likely suspect in her near-fatal crash last night.’’

  “Now, that’s where you’re a hundred percent wrong, Maddie.’’ Looping his thumbs into his waistband, Sal leaned against his Cadillac, the picture of confidence. “Why haven’t I heard you making accusations about the person who called me to say your poor mother was at death’s door, that she’d collapsed at the Himmarshee Jail?’’

  My sister and I looked at each other. It was a good question.

  We would have gotten the answer, too, if Marty hadn’t chosen exactly that moment to pull up in front of Maddie’s house. She was beeping her horn like Himmarshee High had just won the homecoming game. And there was Mama, grinning and waving from Marty’s front seat.

  It’s kind of hard to pretend you don’t see Big Sal Provenza. But Mama was doing her best.

  “Rosalee, I just want to talk to you,’’ Sal begged, placing his palms on the rolled up window on the passenger side of Marty’s car.

  Mama climbed out of her seat, pushed around Sal with a withering glance, and then immediately turned a big smile on Maddie and me. “Girls, I’m so happy to see y’all. I thought I’d never get out of that place. Oh, my Lord, the food. And then a visit from that talky Pastor Bob Dixon. And those horrible cots. Mace, you saw those inmate smocks. Remind me never to wear orange again.’’

  “Please, Rosalee.’’ Sal ran his hands through his hair, messing up his careful styling. “I can explain everything. I just can’t do it right now.’’

  She didn’t say a word to Sal. The look she gave him said enough. Then she turned to us again, grinning as she squinted in the sun. She was like a swivel-headed doll with two expressions: ecstatic for us; furious for Sal.

  “I can’t wait to have some real food, girls. Maddie, I hope you have something good in your fridge. You and Kenny aren’t still on that low-cholesterol kick, are you?’’

  Sal tried again. “Rosie, honey …”

  “Enough!’’ Mama cut him off. Then she glared at him for a full ten seconds.

  Sal seemed to shrink in his Big-and-Tall-Man ensemble as the moments passed.

  The tense silence was making Marty uncomfortable. She shot an apologetic glance at Sal, then stooped to pick a stem of juniper from the driveway border. Maddie, with her arm around Mama’s shoulders, bored a hole through Sal with her own version of laser vision. Watching the two of them staring at Sal, I could see now where Maddie had inherited The Glare.

  Finally, Mama spoke: “I know you want to talk to me, Sally. I’m not ready to listen. That detective told me you lied to me about Jim Albert. I don’t know what all else you lied about. I don’t know whether I trust you anymore. I do know that right now, I’m as mad at you as a wasp with a ruin’t nest.’’

  “But Rosalee …’’

  Mama put up a hand. “Now, why don’t you climb back into that gaudy car of yours and give me some time to visit with my girls? I may cool down some, and we can talk later. Or maybe I won’t. You’ll just have to wait and see.’’

  I had to credit Mama’s finesse. Though I did question how a woman who drives a turquoise convertible the size of a cruise ship could call someone else’s car gaudy.

  She turned her back on him. “C’mon, girls, let’s go inside.’’

  Maddie’s hands were at her hips, the better to stare down Sal. Mama looped one arm around Maddie’s elbow. Marty dropped the juniper and took Mama’s other arm. Then the three of them trooped off toward the house.

  Sal and I looked at each other over the hood of his car.

  “Well, you’re in some deep shit now,’’ I said.

  “I can’t believe I’ve lost her, Mace. She’s my whole world.’’ Wold. Sal leaned his elbows on the roof of his car and dropped his head into his hands. “What am I going to do?’’

  “You could start by telling her the truth.’’

  He rocked his head from side to side, his crowning glory a complete fright now. “I can’t do that, Mace.’’ Misery filled his voice. “I can’t talk about the murder victim; can’t discuss how I knew Jimmy Albrizio. Don’t you think I would if I could? I’d do anything to get Rosie back.’’

  Sal might be macho, but love was bringing him to emotional meltdown. As big as that man was, if he started crying I feared a flood.

  “Well, what about me, then?’’ I changed the subject. “What about how I was run off the road into what could have been my grave? Can you talk about that?’’

  He raised his head. “I had absolutely nothing to do with that, Mace.’’ His tone was honest, not evasive. His eyes met mine and held there, no darting about. Either he was telling the truth or he was an Olympic-caliber liar.

  “It’s just that I’d have never been out there on that lonesome road if not for you, Sal.’’

  “And I’m sorry about that. But I explained about the phone call.’’

  “Not completely. You never said who called you with a story so terrifying that you ran out and left me swinging in the wind. You could have left me a message at the pro shop.’’

  The junior Don Juan flashed into my mind. He had a message for me all right; but it wasn’t from Sal.

  “I told you I wasn’t in my right mind when I left there, Mace. I was frantic.’’

  “So, who called?’’

  When Sal told me who’d scared him off our meeting, I just about fell down and cracked my one good knee.

  ___

  Opening Maddie’s front door, I smelled cold fried chicken. Mama was laughing.

  “What’s so funny?’’ I said, limping into the gleaming kitchen. The place was so clean, you could perform surgery on Maddie’s stainless-steel countertops.

  “I was just telling your sisters what my neighbor Alice said about taking care of Teensy for the last two days. That dog can get into more trouble than …” The smile died on Mama’s lips. “C’mere and let me take a closer look at you, Mace.’’ She hunted in her purse for the glasses she was too vain to wear. “What happened to your forehead? Why are you hobbling?’’

  Maddie shot me a panicked look. “Mace hurt herself at the park, Mama.’’

  “That’s right,’’ Marty echoed quickly. “At work.’’

  We weren’t going to reveal that someone—possibly Mama’s recently departed former true love—had forced me off the road into a canal.

  “Actually, it was after work,’’ I improvised, slowly closing the distance to the table. Maddie pulled out a chair for me. “You remember that crazy New Jersey lady I told you about, Mama? The one who moved to the country, even though she’s scared of anything that slithers, creeps, or flies?’’

  She nodded, a frown on her face. I sat down and let her brush away my bangs to examine my head.

  “Well, last night, I crawled into her attic after a possum. The crazy thing jumped r
ight out at me. It startled me, was all. I slipped and hit my head on a rafter. Then I took a spill and smacked my knee pretty good.’’

  It scares me how easily I can lie. But I figure if the Lord knows Mama, he must know that a little deception is for the best.

  She sighed with relief, resting her hand on my cheek. “Is that all, Mace? A trapping mishap? You’ll be fine.’’

  I heard Marty let out the breath she’d been holding. Crisis averted.

  “Now, tell me about this beautiful haircut.’’ Mama lifted my thick hair, watching it fall. “Maddie says you actually sat still for D’Vora. Lucky for you that girl’s better with the scissors than she is with peroxide.’’

  Her fingers went to her own ruined hair, sending platinum strands with gray roots onto Maddie’s glass-topped table. Lips pressed into a disapproving line, Maddie swept the hairs into a napkin, held it by two fingers, and dropped it in the garbage.

  “I saw that disgusted look.’’ Mama slathered butter on a piece of white bread. The bones of two chicken legs already littered her plate. “I can’t believe I endured fifteen hours of difficult labor to bring Maddie into the world, yet a couple of hairs off my poor head gives her fits.’’

  “I’ve got news.’’ I cut short the oft-told story of Maddie’s painful delivery. “You’ll never believe what Sal just told me.’’

  “I don’t want to talk about that man.’’ Done with her bread, Mama was delicately licking butter off her fingertips.

  “Don’t you want to know why he rushed over to the jail last night, frantic?’’ I asked.

  “I didn’t know he was frantic, and I wouldn’t care anyway. Donnie Bailey came back to my cell and asked if I wanted to see him, and I told him absolutely not. Donnie didn’t say why Sally was there.’’

  “He came because Emma Jean Valentine called him up and told him you’d had a heart attack.’’

  “Close your mouth, Maddie,’’ I said. “You’re gonna draw flies.’’

  It’s so rare I get the chance to surprise my older sister. I was taking full advantage.